


For the World is Hollow and What the Hell Was I Drinking Last Night?

by Claire



Category: Tremors: The Series
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Other, Three-Tongued Love Monkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-27
Updated: 2008-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-08 09:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claire/pseuds/Claire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Burt and Tyler get drunk, and then there are consequences</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the World is Hollow and What the Hell Was I Drinking Last Night?

Tyler squirmed, the throb between his asscheeks telling him that he did something fun last night and the throb in his head confirming it had something to do with alcohol. There was a shuffling behind him and Tyler froze.

The last thing he remembered was him and Burt and the seven crates of beer from that shop in Bixby that had been given to them for stopping the mixmaster-enhanced rats from eating the customers.

Oh god, he thought, please don't say I slept with Burt. He loved Burt like a friend, like a brother. But definitely not like someone he wanted to go down on for an hour before being fucked into oblivion.

Keeping his eyes closed and his breathing steady in the frantic hope that whoever was with him would think he was still asleep, Tyler tried to remember exactly what had happened.

He remembered the beer and the hotdogs in the back of Burt's freezer that had, for some inexplicable reason, tasted like chicken. There'd been mocking on Tyler's part when he'd found out that Burt's entire music collection consisted of seven Reba McEntire albums. There'd been mocking on Burt's part when he found out that one of the reasons Tyler was so well known on the NASCAR circuit had less to do with Tyler's driving and more to do with an incident with his mechanic that was forever tagged in people's memories as 'that thing with the rubber glove and the jelly'.

Then there had been more beer and Burt telling Tyler that he thought Jodi had a great rack and he'd like to bounce her up and down on his lap, and Tyler encouraging him to go for it. Of course, Tyler had then reciprocated Burt's great passionate declaration with the secret that he was in love with El Blanco and wanted nothing more than to feel the Graboid's tongues sliding over his skin and inside him, and Burt encouraging him to--

Well, fuck, Tyler thought, the rest of the night coming back to him in a blaze of Technicolor glory. He remembered staggering out of Burt's and shouting for El Blanco, although he tried desperately to _unremember_ the fact that the phrase 'my three-tongued love monkey' may have been used.

He remembered the rumbling in the ground, earth shaking beneath him and standing there with his arms stretched out. And he remembered the fact that Blanco's tongues were surprisingly deft at removing drunk people's clothes, squashing down on the brief flare of apparent jealousy and the curiosity at wondering whether or not that meant that Blanco had had, in the past, other opportunities to remove clothes from drunkards.

Not, Tyler thought, that he'd be doing that again. If what Tyler thought had happened actually _had_ happened, then from here on in, El Blanco was a one-man Graboid.

His eyes still closed, Tyler turned his head slowly, part of him still worried that if he opened them it would be Burt's face looking back at him. A soft whuffling noise, laced with sympathy and humour, met him and Tyler finally cracked his eyes open.

Oh thank god, he thought, relief flooding through him as one of Blanco's tongues reached out, patting his face soothingly. "Yeah," he said, smiling. "Me too."


End file.
